


Paperback Writer

by epeeblade



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Steamy, Writer AU, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:23:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8678365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeeblade/pseuds/epeeblade
Summary: When pro m/m novelist Phil gets a case of writer's block at his local coffee shop, it's up to barista Clint to save the day.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassandrasfisher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandrasfisher/gifts).



> For Cassandrafisher, who got me thinking about writer Phil...Thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy the fic!
> 
> Thanks to everyone running the exchange for all your hard work!
> 
> Thank you to my beta, whose identity I will reveal at a future date;)

Phil stared at the blank screen, the empty cursor taunting him. His fingers rested on the keyboard, and he itched with the need to write, something, anything. But the words would simply not come.

He let out a groan as he dropped his head onto his arms, nearly hitting the keyboard with his forehead.

“Hey, what did that laptop do to you?”

Hearing that familiar voice caused warmth to fill him. Phil looked up, and saw Clint standing there in his purple apron with a cup of coffee in one hand. “Thought you could use a re-fill. You’ve been hanging out in the corner for a while.”

“Thanks,” Phil took the brew gratefully. “But I’m sure you have other customers to worry about instead of serving me.”

Clint spread out his arms, indicating the nearly empty coffee shop. “Hey, it’s no problem, I have staff for that now.”

“What you have is a co-owner!” Natasha called from behind the bar where she was busy wrangling with the espresso machine.

Clint winced. “Right. That. Besides, you’re in that sweet spot right before the lunch rush. Nobody’s going to bother showing up for at least another…” He looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes.”

Phil had been coming to the Purple Shot for months now. He’d found the relaxed atmosphere of the cafe perfect for finishing up the last few novels on his contract. The interior had been tastefully decorated in shades of purple and black, giving it a sort of avant garde look. It certainly stood out in this neighborhood.

He’d been one of the first customers when they opened, at first just looking to try out their coffee. The special of the day was indeed a purple colored shot of espresso. Despite the gimmick, Phil found himself enchanted by the smile of the man at the cash register.

It turned out Clint owned the place. He was there every time Phil came in, and eventually he learned Phil’s favorites, having Phil’s coffee ready before Phil could even order. He also let Phil stay as long as he wanted, typing away on his laptop and taking advantage of the lack of wifi to concentrate.

(Yeah, it was one of those old fashioned places. Clint demanded interesting conversation, and Phil didn’t have the heart to tell him about hot spots.)

Phil sipped his coffee. He took a moment to really savor the brew - brown sugar and cinnamon blended with cream. It was the perfect mix of sweet that he loved. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Anything for one of my best customers.” Clint winked. 

Phil stilled. He shouldn’t take it personally. Clint tended to flirt with all of the customers. It had to be good for business.

But, god, sometimes he wanted it to be real, that Clint flirted because he really was interested. Phil pressed his lips together tightly, knowing that kind of thing didn’t happen in real life. Hot baristas didn’t hit on balding, middle aged writers.

“Your only customer, right now.” Natasha had emerged from behind the counter, wielding a spray bottle and rag as she worked her way around the shop, polishing granite tables that already gleamed. 

Phil didn’t know her quite as well. She tended to work off-shifts with Clint, so he usually only saw her on the rare occasions he broke his usual schedule and visited the shop during the evening. One of their regular employees must have called out.

Clint growled. “It’s that damn cannoli shop across the street.” He walked to the large picture window that overlooked the street and glared. If looks could kill that shop would be toast. “Who the hell has a store that only sells cannoli and does NOT name the store Only Cannoli?”

“Or Only-One Cannoli.” Phil suggested, coming up with his own pun.

Clint turned back and grinned. “Exactly! That’s a great one. Hell, anything would be better than ‘Always cannoli.’ No shit! That’s all you sell!”

“It’s fine. They have Keurig brewed coffee.” Natasha made a face. “People will still come here for the good stuff.”

“We have to up our pastry game.” Clint stroked his chin, like some evil genius. “Knookie cookies?”

“Stop. You do one thing well.” Natasha tossed the rag at him, and Clint caught it one-handed. “Not everything has to be a play on words.”

“Yes. Yes it does.”

“Then think of something better. I’m going on break.” She gave Clint a look before pulling off her apron and disappearing into the back room.

Clint came over and started polishing the already clean table next to Phil’s. “Doing all right?”

“Oh yeah. Fine.”

Clint leaned close and said in a low voice, “Seriously, Phil, what’s going on? You’ve sat here all morning and haven’t typed a single word.”

“You noticed that?” Despite being called out on it, Phil felt a flutter of warmth in his chest. 

“I see pretty good from a distance.”

Phil let out a sigh. If even Clint had noticed….”I’m just super blocked on this book. Can’t write a word of it. Usually when that happens I like to change my writing location, but I...can’t give up your fantastic coffee.”

Clint laughed. “Well, what are you writing? Maybe I can help.”

Ice raced down Phil’s spine. He couldn’t tell Clint what he wrote. That would change everything between them. “Um.”

Clint stiffened suddenly. “Oh, I get it. I’m just a barista. Probably too stupid to understand what someone like you is writing.”

Oh, no. He didn’t mean to insult Clint. That was the last thing in the universe he wanted. But Phil couldn’t just blurt out what he was writing. Customers were approaching the store. That fifteen minute sweet spot was up, and Phil had run out of time to say anything. He reached into his laptop bag and pulled out one of the ARCs his publisher had sent him.

The bell on the door jingled, and before Clint could go see to the new customer, Phil shoved the book into his hands. “This, I wrote this. It’s my pen name.”

Before Clint could read the title, he gathered up his laptop and left, leaving his coffee behind.

***

“I can't believe Phil didn't tell me what he wrote.” Clint started loading the pastries for the day into the glass cabinet. He carefully tucked a card that said “Orange you glad it's not mint cookies” in front of the cookie tray before straightening up.

“I can't imagine why someone wouldn't admit to writing gay erotica.” Natasha said dryly, putting the espresso machine back together from the deep clean she’d just given it.

Clint leaned against the counter, surveying his domain. They were just about ready to open. “It's not just gay erotica. Stefan Buchanan's work is about deep emotional connections between the characters.”

“Is that between the blow jobs and the butt sex?”

He threw a wet paper towel at her. “If you’d read any, you’d understand what I mean. The sex only enhances the relationship the characters develop.”

She got serious, the mirth fading from her eyes. “All right. Lend me something from your collection, and I’ll check it out.”

Her words touched Clint. Nat didn’t read much fiction; she had a weakness for nonfiction books on cryptography. Her offer meant going far out of her comfort zone.

She was right in calling it a collection. Even before Phil had handed Clint that paperback, he’d already heard of Stefan Buchanan.

And been one of his biggest fans.

Clint had every series - from the “Army son” days to the more recent paranormal “Vampire Dragon scions.” He’d been pouring over those books since he found a used copy of “How to seduce a sniper” in the bus station back when he didn’t know how he was going to put his life back together. It was the beginning of Clint getting on the right track, starting work at the local coffee shop and saving enough to buy out the owner when old man Hanson decided he wanted to retire.

So Phil had saved him, in a way, nearly ten years ago. Clint was still trying to wrap his mind around it.

“I’ll lend you From Budapest with Love. It was his only spy thriller. About a secret agent falling for his mark…” Clint trailed off. He didn’t want to spoil the entire book for Natasha. That was half the fun.

“Hmm.” Natasha went to switch the sign to ‘open’ and unlocked the front door. “Have you considered that this is your opportunity?”

“Opportunity for what?” Clint checked the status of the regular coffee brew and poured himself a cup while he was at it.

“To tell Phil how you feel about him.”

Clint laughed, but even he could hear how broken it sounded. “He’s a customer. And an extremely embarassed one based on how he ran out of here after he gave me that book.”

Though Clint was super excited to get a copy of Dragon Birthright before it actually hit the shelves. He’d have to tell Phil that. And that he’d stayed up all night in a desperate attempt to finish it. Clint had five chapters left, but he just couldn’t make it. He’d fallen asleep right in the middle of the paperback.

“Clint, how can I put this delicately? You’re an idiot.”

“That’s delicate?”

“The two of you have been flirting for months. Half the regulars already think you’re fucking.”

Clint’s cheeks burned. “That would be inappropriate. He’s a customer.”

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but closed it, uncertain what to say.

Nat smiled. “I forgot. You can’t see very well up close, can you?”

“Shut up.”

That only made her shake her head. “Just give it a try, okay? Ask him out.”

“Before or after I tell him how much I love reading his porn?”

“I thought they were books about emotional connections.” She stressed the last two words.

Clint stuck his tongue out at her and got to work as the morning rush started to arrive. They’d have to table the discussion until later. He didn’t want to be an object of gossip to the regulars.

It was almost eleven by the time the place cleared out a bit. Clint leaned against the counter and took a sip of his now ice cold coffee. In a second he’d start bussing the messy tables, but he really needed a timeout.

The bell jingled and he almost choked on his coffee when Phil walked in. However, Clint noticed right away that Phil lacked his laptop bag. He wasn’t planning on staying, then.

Clint immediately started prepping Phil’s favorite drink, and had it halfway started by the time Phil made it to the counter. “One double shot caramel latte coming right up.”

“I actually, um, didn’t come for the coffee.”

“Well. I already started. You might as well drink it?” Clint swallowed. He could barely meet Phil’s gaze. God, he didn’t want Phil to think things had changed. But they had. “I love your books,” he blurted.

Phil blinked. “What?”

“I mean. Before I knew you were him. I’ve been reading Buchanan for years.” Clint left out the part about the books saving his life. 

Phil’s cheeks went pink. “Oh. Um. Thanks. I admit I feel a bit silly now.”

Clint laughed as he finished up the drink. “I understand that.”

He couldn’t help but stare at Phil. Especially with the blush right now, which made his blue eyes stand out all the more. Clint’s gaze trailed down to Phil’s pink lips, to that swatch of neck visible beneath Phil’s crew sweater. He wanted to lick that bit of skin right there, see how Phil reacted when Clint bit down.

“Go out with me.” He blurted as he handed Phil his coffee.

“Excuse me?” But a smile played at Phil’s lips.

Clint cleared his throat. “I mean, would you like to go out with me?”

“You liked the books that much?”

“No, I like you.” Clint had to convince Phil of this. “The fact that I like your books is just a bonus. Truth is, I should have asked you out a long time ago.”

Phil took a sip of the coffee and looked around, wide-eyed. “But...you flirt with everyone.”

Clint winced at hearing Nat’s word come back like that. “Yeah, well I meant it with you.”

“You realize that is very difficult to tell the difference.”

“Well, then let me prove it to you.” Clint jumped on the chance. “Dinner? Tonight?”

Phil took a long sip of his coffee. When he pulled the cup away he had a white moustache from the froth and Clint had to smile. “You got a little bit of, you know.” Clint gestured to his own lip.

“Oh!” Phil wiped the froth away and they both burst into childish giggling. The bell above the door jingled, and the sound silenced them. “I guess after that I have to go out with you.”

“Clearly.” Clint couldn’t keep the grin off of his face.

They exchanged phone numbers and made plans to meet. Then Phil left, and Clint watched his ass the entire time as he walked across the room.

“That was wretched.” Natasha appeared behind the counter. Clint didn’t know where she’d disappeared to. “Perhaps you need to read different books on how to ask men out.”

“Well considering what I have been reading, I’m already an expert on what comes next.” Clint made sure to waggle his eyebrows at her so she understood that hell yeah he was making an innuendo.

She just grinned and went off to take coffee orders. Clint couldn’t wait for his shift to be over. He had a date to get ready for.

***

Phil was glad he’d decided to wear a tie with the grey button down shirt he’d liberated from the back of his closet. The Italian restaurant Clint had suggested seemed a bit more upscale than Phil originally thought, with a dimly lit dining room, tables covered with white linen, and serious looking waiters. He hadn’t been on a lot of dates and the glamorous life of a writer led to the wearing of sweats and t-shirts, not fancy suits.

Clint waved Phil over to a table in the corner. He’d taken the chair against the wall and even after all these years out of the military, it still made Phil twitch to sit with his back to the restaurant.

“Mind if we switch seats?” He asked as the waiter arrived to pull out his chair.

Clint shrugged and got to his feet. He was dressed a bit more casually in a deep purple shirt over dark-wash jeans. The clothes clung to his muscular body as if even the cloth wanted to touch him. “No problem.”

They maneuvered into position and Phil picked up the menu with nervous fingers. Clint ordered a bottle of wine and the waiter disappeared.

“It’s not as fancy as it looks,” Clint reassured him. “They have grilled cheese on the menu.”

Phil laughed and relaxed a bit. “Good to know. It’s important to have a backup item.”

Clint grinned. “Of course.” He took a sip of his ice water and looked like he was steeling up some courage before he asked, “The switching seats thing...I’ve seen a few vets in the coffee shop. Can’t ever sit anywhere but against the wall. Were you military?”

“Army.” Phil shook his head. “Didn’t last long before I got drummed out due to DADT.”

“That sucks.”

“At the time I thought so too. But it led me to my current career, so I’m grateful.”

“I always wondered. The military stuff in your books seemed so real.”

When he’d first started writing, Phil had taken ‘write what you know’ a bit too literally. Of course, at the time he’d meant it as a ‘fuck you’ to the military. If they’d boot him out for being gay, then he’d write every damn Army themed erotica he could think of. But he hadn’t counted on the books becoming so personal, about more than just sex. 

“I’m sorry,” Clint said, breaking into Phil’s rueful memory. “I really didn’t mean this to be talking about your books, I swear. I’m not a stalkery fanboy.”

His panic made Phil smile. “That’s okay, I don’t get too many of those.”

“No, you don’t understand. I want to get to know you, the real Phil, not the author, just the guy who comes into my coffee shop every day.”

“To write.”

“Point.” Clint chuckled and shook his head.

They’d always shared banter in the coffee shop. Phil wondered if the stress of a date wasn’t too much. Here they couldn’t be the same guys from the shop.They were “Phil and Clint on a date.”

“Fuck this,” Phil said. “We’re taking that wine to go. Come on.”

Thankfully, Clint didn’t freak out when Phil grabbed him by the hand and led him out of the restaurant. He left a large tip to offset the inconvenience, and they actually bagged the bottle for them. Phil took them down past the main drag of town, where both Clint’s shop and the Cannoli shop stood in their ultimate war for the dessert palates of customers, to the park that was half-filled on this warm evening.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m buying you a hot dog.” Phil said. “This park is my second favorite place to think and write.”

Luckily Rumlow was still selling by the time Phil and Clint made it to his stand. “A couple of dogs for me and my friend here,” Phil fished out the cash. “Four with everything.”

“Anything for the zen master.” Rumlow winked and got to work.

“Funny. I actually want my change this time.”

“Don’t you know, change comes from within?” They both said the last bit together and laughed at the joke. Clint looked a little mystified, but he grinned, and Phil couldn’t help smiling stupidly at him.

Only later, as they were eating their hotdogs overlooking the fountain in the center of the park did Phil mention how he’d met Rumlow, how they were both former military and had been screwed over by the service they had sworn themselves to. Phil had found his solace in writing, while he had in his gourmet hotdogs and making people happy.

Clint sat up on the stone railing and made amazing faces while he ate. Phil wondered if Clint realized what he looked like. Clint would close his eyes and lick his lips after each bite, like the hot dog was the best thing in the world. The sight made Phil’s pants feel a little too tight and he shifted position to ease the pressure a bit.

“I was almost military. I mean, they tried recruiting me, and I had the paperwork all ready to go and… my asshole older brother walked into my life.” Clint curled the hotdog wrapped in his hand. “Set me on the wrong path. Until I met Natasha, and we both decided to go legit together.”

Phil didn’t like the shadows in Clint’s eyes. He reached out and touched Clint’s shoulder, hoping the contact would make things better.

Clint swallowed and looked down. “The kinds of things I did Phil...you don’t know what I was like back then.”

“I know what you are like now. And trust me, I love a redeemed bad boy. That’s my favorite romance novel trope ever.” Phil knocked their hips together, hoping to break the darkness from Clint’s gaze.

Clint laughed. He turned his head and it was so natural for him to lean in and Phil to kiss him. He tasted the remnants of salt and a trace of wine, but underneath all of that, the unique taste of Clint.  
“So tell me,” Clint said, pulling away so he was no more than inches from Phil’s lips.”What’s that problem you’re having with writer’s block? Maybe I could give you a hand.”

“Well, you know it is a sex scene I’m stuck on…”

***

They held hands as they walked through downtown, and Clint couldn’t help the warmth that spread throughout his body. Phil had invited Clint over, and his skin tingled with anticipation. The kiss by the fountain had only been a taste, and Clint ached for more. He wanted to touch Phil, to run his hands all over his body, to follow with his lips and see if he could make Phil scream.

“This is me.” Phil tore Clint out of his torrid fantasy as he pointed to one half of a duplex not far from the park. It was definitely a step up from Clint’s apartment above the coffee shop.

“Nice. You own this?” Clint trailed his fingers on the brick railing that led to the tiny porch. These houses were built at the turn of the century.

“I got in early, before the neighborhood started to gentrify.” Phil shrugged. “It’s worth more now than when I bought it.” 

He unlocked the door and Clint followed close behind. He took a curious look around the living area - dark hard wood floors, a comfy looking couch, and shelves and shelves filled with books. Well, that made sense. Although when Clint took a closer look at one of the bookcases, he noticed a lot of biographies of Captain America.

“Cap fan?” Clint touched the spine of one of the books. It was creased and looked well-read.

Phil chuckled. “Yeah, one of my goals is to someday write the definitive biography of Steve Rogers. I know, it’s a far cry from what I’m writing now.”

“Hey. Don’t do that. The books you write are important.” Clint could see the way Phil ducked his head that he disagreed. 

“You don’t have to say that. I know I write trash..”

Clint crossed the room in two strides and took Phil by the shoulders. “It’s not trash. Why shouldn’t we believe that romance is possible? That happy endings are possible even when the world tells you otherwise?”

Phil tangled his hands in Clint’s hair and drew him down for a kiss. Clint obliged, tasting Phil, breathing in deeply of his scent. The arousal that had flared at the park was now kindled into a full fledged fire. 

“Bedroom?” Clint asked when they parted for air.

Phil stepped away and held out his hand. Clint took it and let Phil lead. It was somehow sexier to do this in silence, to walk through the dim house until Phil opened a door to reveal his bedroom - filled with a king-sized bed and not much else. 

They stood in the center of the room and stared at each other. A very dirty smile showed up on Phil’s face as he stepped closer to Clint. “So this sex scene I’m trying to write...is just a little more kinky than I usually go.” His fingers moved down the front of Clint’s chest, carefully undoing each button as he spoke.

“Oh? Not your usual thing?” Clint lifted the end of Phil’s tie and used it to bring Phil closer so he could kiss him. “I believe I might be able to help with that.”

And just like that Clint knew exactly what he wanted to do to Phil. The idea popped in his head so quickly he felt the blood rush to his cock. “I’m gonna tie you to the bed.” He pulled on Phil’s tie. “With this.”

Phil let out this gorgeous little groan. Like, no porn star could compete. It made Clint want to do filthy filthy things to him. “...and I’m gonna finger you till you come.”

“Ok, you’ve been reading too many of my books.”

Clint laughed and it broke the tension just a bit. He maneuvered Phil back toward that huge bed, wondering what kind of shenanigans they could get up to on such a massive surface.

Phil held Clint’s gaze, then slowly undid the knot of his tie and handed the silky fabric over to Clint. Fuck, that was so hot. Clint placed the tie around his own neck, so he wouldn’t forget about it, before advancing on Phil. He started to undo the buttons on Phil’s sharp pressed shirt, but Phil pushed him away and just tugged.

Buttons flew everywhere.

Clint laughed as he backed Phil onto the bed, now able to touch and kiss where he wanted. God, he loved how much laughter was part of their play. This was hot, but not quite too serious, and it made affection grow in Clint’s chest.

Phil shrugged off his shirt as Clint attacked Phil’s fly, his fingers sure on the button and careful drawing down the zipper. He licked his lips at the sight of Phil’s cock straining against the fabric of his boxers. Clint ran his hands over the hard length, and Phil’s hips jerked upward.

“Easy.” 

“Clint…”

“Let me.” Clint got off the bed long enough to remove Phil’s shoes and socks before coming back to pull down Phil’s slacks, leaving him completely bare on the bed. He took a moment to appreciate the view, the dusting of hair on Phil’s chest, the long length of his cock, already leaking as it curved against one muscular thigh.

He straddled Phil, still clothed himself, and pulled the tie from around his neck. “Put your arms over your head.”

Phil complied, staring Clint down as he did so. Clint looped the silk around Phil’s wrists, knotting it loosely. Phil could escape easily if he wanted, but the key was that he didn’t want to. 

“Lube?” Shit, Clint should have thought that through before tying Phil up.

Phil grinned. “Top drawer, end table.” He tilted his head to the right.

Clint leaned over and reached for the drawer, pulling out a bottle of the good stuff. There were condoms in there, too, but he didn’t need them for what he had planned right now. Maybe some other time.

Clint tugged off his shirt and unbuttoned his own jeans, letting his dick have some air. It was a relief not to have the zipper pressing into him any more. 

He settled between Phil’s legs, putting a hand on either side and tugging Phil’s thighs wide, then wider still. Phil groaned as Clint slid his fingers up the tender flesh, brushing his thumbs against Phil’s thighs before venturing any higher.

“Clint…”

“What do you want, Phil?” Clint continued to make slow circles with his fingers, his mouth just a breath away from Phil’s cock.

“Your mouth, your hands, anything…” 

“Say please.” Clint pulled away, sitting back on his knees while Phil processed the order.

“Please.” The word came out breathless, and Clint swore he saw Phil’s cock jump.

“Good boy.” Clint flicked open the cap on the bottle of lube, and squirted some on his fingers. Just a bit, not too much to start. Then he circled around Phil’s opening.

Phil let out a surprised shout.

Clint leaned forward, to cup Phil’s cheek with his free hand. “Hey, I got you. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Phil swallowed and nodded. For a moment his arms strained, testing the bonds of the tie. Fuck, that was hot.

Clint got back to work, first one finger, then two, both opening Phil up so Clint could feel the soft warm skin on the inside. He’d intended to suck Phil down as he worked, but he couldn’t stop watching - the way Phil squirmed, his eyes clenched tight, his mouth parted as he gasped. Phil’s cock started to leak, fluid gathering at the top.

Clint curved his fingers, seeking out that bundle of nerves. When Phil cried out, Clint knew he’d found it. Only then did he lean forward and wrap his lips around Phil’s cock. He savored the taste, the salt and the sweat, as his mouth was filled with Phil’s length.

He didn’t let up with his fingers, continuing to work Phil from the inside as he sucked. Phil started to thrash, and Clint used his free hand to hold Phil’s hips down. He slid his fingers out, then came back with three inside of two as he hollowed his mouth and really gave it a go.

Phil stiffened, and Clint pulled off, finishing Phil off with his hand. Phil clamped down on Clint’s fingers, still inside, as he came, spurts of come around Clint’s palm. 

Clint couldn’t hold back any longer. He pulled out his own cock, stroking it with the hand wet with lube. With a grunt, he came, over himself and Phil. He started down at Phil as he rubbed his come into the soft skin of Phil’s belly.

“You’re fucking amazing,” Phil whispered.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding that filthy mouth. Your books have a lot more colorful language,” Clint teased, easing out of his jeans. “Towels?”

“Bathroom. Door is behind you.” Phil looked about ready to melt into the bed.

Clint came back with a warm wet towel, carefully wiping Phil down before pulling off the tie. “Good?” He might have been a bit insecure about his performance, after all. Phil had probably choreographed hundreds of sex scenes in his head. Did the reality meet the fantasy?

Phil, now with his arms freed, pulled Clint down and kissed him. He devoured Clint’s mouth, and if he hadn’t just come, Clint was sure he was about to get hard from it. “Stay?”

“Sure. Nat’s opening the shop tomorrow.” Clint lifted the sheets and settled with Phil beneath the covers.

“She is a very good friend.”

***

Phil worked by the glow of his laptop, typing furiously in the dark. Just behind him Clint slept in his bed, the sheets pushed down to his waist, revealing Clint’s ridiculously muscular belly. Seriously, how could the man look so damn good?

Just one more scene and then Phil would climb back into bed. He already missed that warmth, the feel of Clint against his skin. But he had to finish this. His writer’s block was officially broken.

“Phil?” Clint said, his voice raspy with sleep. “Come back to bed.”

Phil hit save on his work. He was sure he would have plenty of inspiration left to finish tomorrow.

end


End file.
